Chance Meetings
by Hornet394
Summary: For some reason why Switzerland had to show a guest St Patrick's Day in his homeland, who displays a side that he could never have imagined. Short ficlet for Hetalia-Romance's 4th adopt a pairing mission in deviant art.


**4th Adopt a Pairing Mission**

**Month: March 2013**

**Theme: Luck / Clover / Saint Patrick's Day**

**Pairing: SwissBela**

**Comments:**

**I have never, ever, ever, celebrated St Patrick's Day before, and I only knew it by name until I received this assignment. SwissBela is so hard to write! Also, it's a bit of my headcanon that Switzerland acts a bit like Japan's initial impression of Switzerland (aka the dance that scarred my life) on festivals because his people are so happy!**

* * *

Switzerland looked out of the balcony, polishing his rifle absentmindedly with a purple fabric his sister had given him a few years back. His people was celebrating loudly on the streets of Bern, for once German, French, Italian (he even heard a few snatches of Romansh) mingling together among the cheers.

Green littered the pathways. He was glad Lichtenstein had left the day before, or she would never be able to leave amongst the crowd. This Irelandish tradition, for some reason, was very popular in Switzerland, even though none of his national languages were English. Switzerland himself had learnt English at a very late stage from Canada.

It wasn't coincidence that he chose to stay in Bern though, this time of the year. All in all, he tried to avoid his capital, ironically his heart. He much liked speaking Italian as compared to the rough German. However, his boss had called him in the middle of the night the last friday, trembling from head to toe.

"Ah Suisse, a guest is coming over, non? You will greet her in Bern, non? On St Patrick's Day, Suisse, show her Deutschschweiz in St Patrick's Day. Bern. Remember."

So here he was, with no idea who her referred to, and how she had caused his boss' mind to short circuit and lapse into French. His mansion had been filled with green the past days, one to keep up with the festivity, so claimed the mortal housekeepers, and to show the guest St Patrick's Day. Switzerland grumbled to himself, picking at a crumb that was stuck to the trigger, he had no idea why he was doing this.

He should be with Lichtenstein in the meadow he had found a few years back, when for no reason why all connection to the outer world had been lost, enjoying a picnic. However he... was...stuck... here. Even an idiot like Italy wouldn't roam out today, it was simply too crowded, and sweltering hot amidst the sweat.

A knock at the door had Switzerland shoulder the rifle and open it. One of the humans was at the door. "Mr Zwingli, the guest has come." Her eyes were wide.

Switzerland walked out and down the stairs, where the guest sat at one of the sofas he had placed. A blue ribbon immediately identified as to who she was. "Bielorussia." He greeted stiffly. "Швейцарыя." She replied equally as stoic.

"So... You shall show me the way of St Patrick's Day, then I will be gone." Belarus said. Switzerland nodded, sliding in a few pistols into his belt. "Then we should start going."

The two nations walked in silence out of the mansion, into the warm light of the day. The celebrations were still going on, if not more vibrantly. "Why are you asking after St Patrick's Day?" Switzerland asked. He wasn't curious! He was just defending his right to ask as a nation.

"My boss wants to celebrate St Patrick's Day next year." Belarus replied curtly, offering no extra explanation. Switzerland rolled his eyes. So be it.

A few cheerful souls waved to them as they fought their ways through the crowd, Belarus standing out in her blue and white dress. "Careful." Switzerland muttered. He thought he heard Belarus say something, but he couldn't make out a single word. He suddenly felt a hand grabbing on his arm, Belarus meeting his querying eyes defiantly.

Tugging her along, Switzerland led the other nation through the bustling streets of Bern, into the depth of the city.

Cheerful citizens yelled out greetings as they celebrated, taking great swigs of alcohol and generally embarrassing themselves in front of their nation. Someone shoved a mug at Belarus, which she almost dropped before she held onto it tightly.

"Is it always so... raucous?" She asked. Switzerland shrugged. "On St Patrick's Day, or any other festival, it's pretty much like this."

"You look a bit like Poland today."

Switzerland stiffened. "I do not." He deadpanned.

"I won't be surprised if you dance around in a dress."

"Do not. Compare me. To that crossdresser."

Belarus pulled him to a stop suddenly, in front of a flower shop. Clovers decorated the window frame, tangled in intricate swirls. "What is it?" Switzerland asked. "I haven't seen sunflowers for ages." Belarus explained, going into the shop. "Brother hasn't seen sunflowers for ages."

Switzerland stiffened at the mention of the cold, imposing nation. He (or rather, his bosses) had violated every principle of neutrality ever to exist in Switzerland's mind. The friendly cashier smiled warmly at Belarus' clumsy German and gave her a huge bouquet of sunflowers, wrapped in green silk. "Auf Wiedersehen, liebhaber!" She called good naturedly as they left the store. "What did that mean?" Belarus asked as they walked further down cobbled path, "The last word... lieb... liebhaber. What does that mean?" Switzerland flinched. "Where did you learn German?" He asked, changing the topic.

"Prussia," Belarus replied, "He taught me some basic German when..." The rest were left unspoken. She did not ask him about that word again.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, Belarus clutching to her bouquet of flowers like a lifeline in her left hand and her right was inserted into Switzerland's left. Neither of them made move to remove their contact. The day was winding, soon Belarus would take the plane back to the icy north.

"It was nice being with you today," Belarus said, her eyes surprisingly soft. Before today, Switzerland had never seen the sister of Russia display such a... normal personality. Perhaps he had never paid any more attention beyond his sister.

"Mmh." He grunted. "It was nice too... I guess." He said. "Give my regards to Lichtenstein." She said. "See you next year."

"Uh I guess so... wait, what next year?"

But Belarus had disappeared into the crowd at the Bern Airport, her heels making no sound on the polished ground, the noise from the mortals silencing her departure.

"Wait!" Switzerland said, pushing through the people to reach for the silver-haired girl. But she was gone, her ribbon bow long gone from his eyes.

He stood in the middle of his people, arm still outstretched. He let it fall by his side. "Next year."

* * *

Suisse (French) - Switzerland

non (French) - no

Deutschschweiz - The German speaking region in Switzerland

Bielorussia (French) - Belarus

Швейцарыя (Belarusian) - Switzerland

Auf wiedersehen (German) - goodbye

Liebhaber (German) - lover / lovers


End file.
